


The Spice of Life

by teaandcharcoal



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Body Modification, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcharcoal/pseuds/teaandcharcoal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and England enjoy sex as a general rule. Then one night America requests that England uses his magic to allow them to act out kinks they couldn't normally accomplish. Mostly PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As it was in almost all of their misadventures, America started it.

"England," he said one evening as they lay side by side in bed, the remains of their recent activities not even cleared away yet. England could tell just by the tone of voice that this wasn't going to be his typical sweet nothings, "You know I love you right?"

"Yes," He said nervously, not sure what to expect.

"And I mean, what we just did… I do really like having normal sex with you, but…"

The boy had his attention at that. America had always been so vanilla in bed, so undemanding. England had been wanting to ask for more, but he just had never been sure how to bring it up when he was so positive America wouldn't be interested.

"I just… I'm curious. And I've always wanted to try something new with you, but I've never actually _done_ any weird stuff, so I wouldn't know what to ask for."

England grinned, "Well, I do have some rather interesting things in my bag of tricks…"

"I'm not talking about things like that." England's face fell, "I mean, we can do bondage and whatever else you want to, but I wanna try some stuff we couldn't normally do."

"What do you mean?"

America turned bright red, "L-like body change sort of stuff. I know I say magic doesn't work, but if there's a way for you to-"

England sat and bit his thumb, thinking of if there was any way to fulfill his partner's request. It was unusual, sure, but England had been with people of all shapes and sizes. He was happy with America as he was, but a bit of variety never hurt anyone.

He smiled. "I think I have just the thing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which America becomes female

They'd decided how it would work within a week. They each wrote down various kinks on enchanted pieces of paper and placed them in a jar. Whenever there were no plans for the following day, England would draw a slip of paper and activate it, causing one of them to wake up the next morning with his body altered to fit the specifications.

However, with both of them being so busy the jar had collected a fine layer of dust before its first use.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" England asked, "Some of these may be a little… odd for one or the other of us."

"Pfft, and you call _me_ a puritan." America stuffed his hand in the jar, pulled out a piece of paper and held it out, "Come on, I thought you _liked_ adventure."

England huffed and snatched it away, "I was offering you a way out, idiot. I'm perfectly fine with this."

"Fine."

"Fine."

America walked over to the bed and slid beneath the covers. "Come on, babe, let's stop pussyfooting around so we can see what happens!"

England rolled his eyes. How idiotic his boyfriend could be! He muttered the words to activate the spell and threw the paper away before crawling into bed with America.

"Don't worry, baby," he said, holding England tightly, "Your big stwong Amewica is hewe to pwotect you!"

England shoved him away. "Don't talk to me like that, idiot."

America laughed but kept his firm grip around England's waist, "Seriously, though, this is supposed to be fun! I know that being stressed is your national sport, but-"

"Oh, be quiet." England lightly flicked his nose but offered no further resistance as America nestled his head in the crook of his neck. He traced the familiar curve of America's spine. He just hoped that nothing too horrible would happen, especially on the first try.

It was only when his eyes took in the bright morning sunlight and his skin didn't have America's familiar warmth pressing against it that he realized he'd fallen asleep. He sat up and stretched, allowing a yawn to escape as he rubbed at a sore spot in his neck.

He looked down at himself and realized with a jolt that he was more normal than he ought to have been. He looked over at America and saw why. His hair was longer, his shoulders were slimmer, and his body had become much curvier overnight. England peeked over his body to see his face, rounder, softer, much more feminine, and now that he was looking at the right side there was nothing to hide the massive pair of soft-looking breasts attached to his chest. Her chest? What was the proper pronoun for someone whose sex had changed overnight anyway?

England lay back down and rested his head upon the side of her neck. Really, he couldn't care less about grammar at the moment. Yes, he adored America in his male form, but he hadn't been with a woman in so long, and as much as he appreciated a muscular broad chest and those big strong arms sometimes he had secretly longed for the soft supple body of a woman. He inhaled deeply, taking in America's new feminine scent. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Oh, he was going to enjoy this alright.

Then America woke up. She yawned, unfortunately giving England a face full of morning breath, and rolled over to smile at him.

"Good mornin' Eng-" Her eyes widened and she sat bolt-upright, running her hands up and down her body with her eyes wide. "-The fuck is this?"

England sat back and allowed her to figure it out. It had historically be better to allow America to realize what was happening on his own, so it would probably stay the same even if now it was on _her_ own. Besides, even if he had wanted to say something he would have lost his ability to do so as he caught sight of her now-exposed breasts. He thanked God that America had decided to sleep shirtless the night before.

Eventually, she did stop grasping her body as though she didn't truly believe its existence and looked at England, frowning, "How come _I_ have to be the chick?" She whined.

England couldn't help it, he started laughing.

"Hey! Don't do that! I know you did this on purpose! Not cool, man!"

"Don't worry, it won't be long until I'm stuck in a form just as awkward as yours if not more so. Besides, if I remember correctly you were the one who suggested this."

America blushed, "Yeah, well I was expecting a hot British chick…"

"I know it's likely little consolation, but I'm rather happy with what _I_ awoke next to."

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the lips, which she eagerly accepted in spite of her previous complaints. England decided he'd take the chance to be adventurous. He slowly lifted a hand and placed it on one of her breasts. She didn't seem to mind, so he lifted his free hand and placed it on the other before giving them both a small squeeze. Fuck, they were just as soft as they looked! He had planned on getting himself acquainted with her body and then leaving her to want for a while, but he didn't have the control at the moment. He guided her back down onto the bed and pulled away.

She was beautiful laying there, her straw-blond hair was spread like a halo and both of her arms were up above her head, a blush already across her cheeks and her breaths were shallow and rapid. Oh, why hadn't he done this earlier? He licked one of her nipples, making it hard before giving its partner the same treatment. America moaned unabashedly, grabbing his hair and throwing her head against the pillows.

"It's much more sensitive like this, isn't it?" He asked.

She nodded down at him.

"Just wait, love," England said, sliding further down her body.

He ran his hands down her sides, feeling the curve of her hips and enjoying her round, soft thighs before spreading them. He tugged down her extra-large flannel pants before lowering his head. He inhaled deeply. Oh, _Christ,_ he'd missed that smell so badly! He lifted his eyes to look at her face. Her eyes were wide, but she was panting and flushed. Of course, it wasn't as though she could hide how aroused she was when England could see the dampness clinging to her walls and her scent was thick in the air.

Oh, how he longed to put his tongue inside of her! He wanted to bury it deep and lick up every drop of fluid he could find until he would taste nothing but her for days. But that was too selfish. He had to give America something for her trouble first, so instead he flicked his tongue out to just brush her clit. She gasped and clawed his hair again.

"Did you enjoy that?" He teased, giving it a slightly longer lick.

His reward this time was a long drawn-out moan and with that he decided to spring into action. He gripped her thighs, holding them open and pressed his tongue against as much of her nether regions as he could reach. She threw her head back and screamed and England wouldn't have been surprised if he was missing hair after how tightly she gripped his scalp. He began to slowly lick, allowing the tip of his tongue to slide inside on the way. After that he couldn't want anymore. He buried his face between her legs and pressed his tongue inside as deeply as he could, finally getting to revel in the taste he'd been craving since he'd noticed America's change. However, before he had his fill there was a rush of hotter, less viscous fluid.

"Um… hey England?" She asked after a moment.

He swallowed every drip he could before looking up at her, "Yes, America?"

"Did- did I just come?"

"Yes," He replied, nuzzling her thigh for no reason other than that it was there and he bloody wanted it. "Why do you ask?"

"I…" She blushed even deeper, "I still want more."

He smiled, "I was hoping you'd say that." He sat up and began tugging at his own pajamas.

"How is that even possible?"

"It's simple, really." He got down on his hands and knees and pressed his forehead against hers, "Women might not naturally be as… adaptable as we are in the bedroom, but there are things that make up for that." Oh, fuck, how had he missed his cock getting so painfully hard? Well, what did it matter now, he was about to give it what it wanted. "Now let's see how often I can make you come."

With that he pressed inside of her. Both of them let out rough, animalistic cries. Good god she was tight. _"virginal,"_ England realized, _"America has never been taken like this before."_ He licked his lips. He had missed out on America's first times topping _and_ bottoming (America had admitted once while drunk that Canada had gotten both when they were in their awkward teenage years), so he was exuberant to finally be the first at _something._

"Come on, dammit," She said after a few moments, "Just because I haven't had one _here_ doesn't mean I don't know how to take a cock!" He nodded and set a steady pace, only for her to object again with, "Just 'cause I'm a chick doesn't mean I'm a fucking flower!"

He rolled his eyes, which she opened her mouth to object to, but he made her cut herself off with a keen as he began laying into her earnestly. He placed his head in the crook of her neck and began to suck to try to muffle his own moans. It wasn't that he was embarrassed. He simply didn't want to block out any of the heavenly sounds coming from her throat.

Within a few strokes she was coming again. He pulled away for a moment to allow her juices to spill out onto the bed, making her already-heavy scent even thicker.

"That's two," he said mostly for his own benefit.

"Shut up!"

"It's not a bad thing." He said, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, "It just means you're enjoying yourself." He lined his cock back up with her hot, wet opening but stopped, "You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

She was quiet for a moment, leaving England in the excrucitating position of his head being within a hair's breadth of the hole it was designed to fill but unable to enter. However, even worse than that was the idea that maybe, just maybe she didn't actually like this. Maybe _he_ was too used to being male for this to work properly.

"It's weird," America said finally, "It feels hella good, but I don't know if I like this wanting more thing."

England smiled and brushed her hair out of her face, "That I can fix. Just trust me."

"Alright." She said, giving him a small smile in return.

He leaned down to kiss her as he pushed back in. He began massaging her breasts as he moved, swallowing her cries as eagerly as he had swallowed her come earlier. Dammit… as much as he was trying to be comforting he was running out of self control. The feel, the smell, oh America… it was too much, America was always too much and-

"Hey," she said softly, tracing his cheek, "Like I said, I'm no flower. I want you to have fun too."

With a wink she thrust up against him, spurring him on into a rapid pace. She came for a third time, but he didn't pull out, letting her drip down his cock instead. He was too close. If he saw her spill again he might be done right then and there. England placed his head on her chest and looked up at her flushed face. She wore that same hazy expression America always had during sex. He found himself grinning back.

"Feel good now?" He asked.

"'M almost there, England. So close. Think this is my last."

"I'd hope so. I can't give you much more."

He pressed his thumb against her clit, giving her just enough to shove her back over the edge for the last time before he took the plunge himself, the two of them together filling her to the brim. He pulled out and rolled to the side, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

"Thanks," She said breathlessly, "I feel so good now."

"Yeah? I'm glad." He opened one eye to look at her, "I have one request to make, though."

"Huh?" She rolled onto her side, "What is it?"

"When we get up, wear one of my shirts."

"Clothes kink again?"

"Please?"

She grinned and pushed herself up. She rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a pair of plain blue boxers along with one of England's favorite pinstriped shirt. He watched her cover herself, first with the boxers and then beginning to button his shirt. She stopped about three-quarters of the way up so as to still show off her bosom. After that she just walked away.

America paused in the door and looked back at him, "Don't forget, I want more later." She gave him a wink and went into the hall, leaving him to curse refractory periods.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a false pregnancy

America stretched and tried to sit up. Tried because there was a heavy weight on his middle holding him down. He opened his eyes to see a massive bulge protruding from his stomach. His eyes widened and he sat with slightly more trouble than usual. He lifted one hand to feel it. When he realized that it was firm he let out a sigh. At least his fast food consumption hadn't caught up to him  
(even though he was trying to cut down he lived in fear of that).

But then what was it? He stilled. Was it some kind of massive tumor? Did he have some kind of nation-cancer no one had noticed until now? He started to breathe quickly and broke out in a cold sweat. What had happened to him? He had to go to the hospital quickly, but he didn't want to do that in nothing but a now-far-too-tight wife beater and pair of boxers. He stood and managed to peel his clothes off.

He caught a look at himself in the mirror. His nipples were a lot bigger and darker than they had been when he went to bed. His posture seemed very familiar too. He placed a hand on his distended stomach and then it hit him.

Shit. Maybe that all-day unprotected sex marathon when he was a chick wasn't a good idea.

More importantly, he was going to kill England.

He got his phone and hit his boyfriend's speed dial.

"Hullo?" A rather groggy-sounding England asked.

"Get over here. Now."

"America? Are you alright?" He suddenly sounded a lot more alert.

"Do I sound alright?"

"America, what happened?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. There'd better be a plane taking off in the next ten minutes because otherwise-"

"I'm already here. I took a flight last night. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you surprised me alright," His voice cracked.

"Wait just one moment, love."

"Don't 'love' me!" He said, panic beginning to slip into his voice. Why was England being so relaxed when he was obviously upset?

"Oh, ah- America."

"What?" He snapped.

"D-do you," His voice dropped to a whisper, "Do you think you're pregnant?"

"How did you know?" He asked suspiciously.

I used the jar last night. I hoped something fun would happen to me. It's alright. You're not really pregnant. You just look like it. I knew you were off work so I wanted to treat you."

America let out a sigh of relief, "So I'm not really gonna have to deal with a baby or anything?"

"No. Just relax. Take a shower. Eat something. I'll be over once I get my luggage and get a cab."

It was only at the mention of breakfast that America realized how hungry he was. He'd taken a bath the night before, so he simply found a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that were oversized enough to fit over his massive stomach. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not the sexiest he'd ever looked, but he wasn't going to go out in public just to get bigger clothes for one day. Since he already looked like a slob, he just shook his hair more or less into place instead of combing it. He smiled innocently at his reflection. England was a sucker for the whole sweet little America thing and the just-rolled-out-of-bed look would probably help, pregnant belly or not. And if he didn't England would just have to deal. He deserved it for scaring him like that.

He waddled out of his room and down the stairs. Hmm, for all he heard people complaining about getting around at the end of pregnancy it actually wasn't too bad. Of course, part of that might have been his super strength, or the fact that he'd only been pregnant for a day, or the fact that he wasn't _really_ pregnant in the first place. Maybe it was some combination of the three. Well, whatever the reason he wasn't about to complain about it.

He grabbed an apple from the bowl near the sink and ate it as he looked out the window. It was a nice day out. The birds were singing in the trees and there was a rabbit eating his grass. He smiled. If England were around he'd make a comment about how annoyingly picturesque it was. America was happy just to enjoy it.

He placed his free hand on his belly and frowned. He wanted England there. He _needed_ him there. This was so weird and a little bit scary and he just wanted a hug. He shook his head and pulled his hand away. At that rate, he thought, he'd might as well save himself time and dip pickles in chocolate.

Actually, that didn't sound too bad.

… _Fuck._

Then the doorbell rang. It was a good thing that England never rang more than once because with the rate America was walking a lot of people would have.

"Hello, Ame-eh-eh-"

He was gawking, eyes wide with desire. It was lucky that he didn't drop his suitcase. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. After all, _he_ certainly looked fantastic. He was dressed nicely as he always did when he traveled, with dress pants and a sweater vest shirt combo that accentuated his lean body. His hair was messy as ever, but with that little hat on it was incredibly endearing, especially with that look on his face. Any anger that America still held for him melted instantly.

"Hey, England," America said, "Why don't you come in?"

"S-sure."

America turned and walked into the house and England followed him like a lost puppy, only pausing to throw his suitcase, hat, and coat on the sofa.

"This was one of yours, right?" America asked, looking over his shoulder and turning just enough so that England could see his stomach, "Well, you like what you see?"

"Oh yes, very much." He walked closer to America and wrapped his arms around his waist, "You're sexier than I dared dream." He kissed America's cheek and began to stroke his belly.

America shuddered. This wasn't like before when he had touched it experimentally. This was much lighter and sweeter, much more intimate. He felt heat beginning to coil in his belly.

"Oh, America, I can't possibly say how much I want this to be real. Your children would be so beautiful…"

Okay, it was starting to get a little creepy there, but America would let him have his fun. He'd just tune him out and feel that strong, firm body behind him and those warm, dexterous hands feeling his stomach. He wanted to melt into that touch, just to have England hold him forever and ever and-

England leaned in to kiss him, making America's thoughts stop completely for a moment.

"I want you," America breathed, "I want you so fucking bad."

"Do you think you can climb the stairs?" England asked.

"For you? Of course I will."

He took England's hand and led him to the bedroom. Climbing the stairs was a bit harder than it had been the night before, but his legs weren't complaining nearly as much as his dick was so it wasn't hard to have his priorities straight. They were both practically running by the time they got to the landing. America didn't bother to close the door before falling backwards onto the bed and taking England with him.

England scrambled as soon as he realized he was on top of America, "Shit! The baby-"

America laughed, "England, there _is_ no baby."

"Hush now. God knows I let you play act often enough." He nuzzled America's chin.

America smiled and stroked his spine. The way England was touching him was more than enough to make up for whatever weird things were going through his head. Although, a little more touching would have been nice. At the moment, England was just hovering right above him and brushing his fingers against his skin sweetly. It was all very sweet, but it just wasn't enough. America wished that his stomach was small enough for him to rut against England's thigh. He let out a high-pitched whine instead, hoping that England would catch on.

He seemed to notice something, because he pulled away and chuckled, "Well, well, it looks like I'm not the only one getting randy from all this."

America scowled, more annoyed at England's teasing than actually desperate. "Don't patronize me, just fuck me!"

He looked genuinely hurt, "We've been apart for weeks and that's all you want?"

America rolled his eyes. He was the pregnant one, shouldn't _he_ be having crazy mood swings? Still, though, he might as well give an excuse. "England, I'm pregnant, I'm horny, and I've been too busy to jerk off for days. Talk later, sex now."

"Oh fine…" He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Thank you," America said with a sigh as he lifted his hands and allowed England to take his shirt too.

"Really, though, love," England said, gently cupping America's cheek, "You look absolutely stunning like this. I could make love to you forever."

"Then do," America said softly, wrapping his arms around England's chest. He leaned in to kiss him again. It wasn't as rough and needy as the last time, although there was no passion lost. It was just softer and sweeter and now with more than just lust behind it.

When they pulled apart, England traced the waistband of America's sweatpants, "May I?"

America smiled, "You know you don't have to ask."

"I know," England said, grabbing the elastic, "I just like to hear you say it."

And with that he took off America's last piece of clothing. His eyes lit up when he saw that America wasn't wearing anything under it. America laughed. Sometimes it was almost adorable how perverted England was.

"How would you like to do this?" England asked as he began undoing his own pants.

"How _can_ we do this?" America replied, gesturing to his stomach, "I mean, this is kinda gonna get in the way whenever I face you."

"Well, I suppose that I could sort of sit between your legs, or else you could ride, or-"

"No, I wanna feel you. Want you to be on me."

"Oh, well, I suppose we could do it on our knees too."

"Yeah." America said softly, "You have to get off for a second, though."

"Ah! Right." England backed off and allowed his partner to roll over and get into his hands and knees before settling back over him.

"Hey," America said smiling, "It's been a long time since we've done it doggy-style, hasn't it?"

"You know I don't like that phrase. But yes. Lube?"

"In the side table drawer where it always is." He said, gesturing with his head.

"Oh good." England said as he rummaged through the drawer, "I wasn't sure you'd have it in the same place since this was a surprise visit and all, but- Oh, I found it."

America closed his eyes and hummed contentedly as he heard England opening the bottle and squirting some of the lubricant onto his fingers. He knew that really he should have felt more frenzied, that the promise of sex should have gotten him all riled up. Even though he had been eager as a virgin when he'd first seen England, now he just felt content. Having England behind him like that, touching him, holding him, and even now _preparing_ him, it felt like going home. It was safe, it was friendly, it was familiar and he loved every minute of it.

The feeling only continued when England pulled his fingers away. He leaned over America, put his lips close to his ear and whispered, "Are you ready for me, love?"

"Yeah," America said, throat suddenly very dry, "Oh fuck, yeah."

"Alright, then. Brace yourself." And then with a quick kiss on America's ear he was in.

America swallowed. Oh, it had been awhile. Sure, he'd played with some pretty decent-sized toys between England's visits, but they hadn't been warm, they hadn't been alive, and most importantly they hadn't been attached to the person he loved more than anything in the world. He moaned. Yes, England was the one who would wax poetic about being connected and merging and all that kind of crap, but at times like those America almost believed it.

"I've missed you," He panted, "I've missed you so much."

"Missed you too," England said, "Hey, would you be able to hold me up on your own?"

"I should be able to, why?"

Before he could get a verbal answer, England set his weight on America's shoulders and placed his hands on his stomach.

"Oh God," England whispered, "Christ, Meri."

He continued to rub small circles on America's belly, pressing in now and then as if to test that it was more than just a potbelly. America assumed that the touches would feel bizarre, pulling him out of the actual sex and making him think about his condition. Instead, it was arousing, making him shiver and moan like England was teasing his nipples. Then again, his sides and stomach had always been sensitive. Maybe this had just made it worse.

England buried his nose in America' s shoulder and inhaled deeply, "Oh, Meri, I'm close."

"Touch me." America said, "Move one of those hands down."

England laughed softly as he did what America instructed, "You're already dripping down here."

"I know. Make it do more."

"Of course." He began to stroke America in time to his thrusts. As he pulled out his hand went down to America's base only to pull down when he thrust back in. America gripped the sheets beneath him. There was always something. He couldn't get away from the pleasure. He didn't have a single second where England wasn't actively pleasing him and he loved it.

England came first, but rode it out. He kept his rhythm as constant as possible, trying to get America off before he was completely finished. He succeeded, but just barely. America spilled onto the sheets just as England was starting to go soft.

They both flopped over sideways and England pulled out only to snuggle closer again. He draped his hand across America's belly again, tracing small shapes with his pointer finger. America closed his eyes and placed his hand on top of England's.

There would be time to talk later. For that moment it was nice just to be together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Naga!England makes a brief appearance

England couldn't feel his legs. He sat up and looked down. There was certainly still something under the blankets, but it didn't look anything like legs. He pulled the sheets away, revealing feet upon feet of massive green scales and gasped. What was this thing? He reached for where the scales ended and found that there wasn't some separate thing that had eaten his lower half in the night. Instead, they just flowed into his own skin. He ran his hands down his sides severally, feeling the transition between soft, slightly hairy skin and hard, smooth scale.

"What's wrong?" America asked, rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up.

"I-I think I'm half snake."

"You're what?" America opened his eyes and then gasped, "Damn, how did-"

"This must be the kink from last night." He said.

"You wanted to be half snake?"

England blushed, "No. N-not exactly. Japan's been on about these snake people recently, so I thought maybe-"

America smiled, "That's okay. Weird, but okay." He yawned, "For now, let's go get some breakfast."

He got out of bed and headed for the door. England tried to follow suit, but tails were nothing like legs. He tried to move his lower half down so it could support his weight, but instead he ended up falling out of bed.

"Are you alright?" America asked, coming back over and kneeling beside England.

"I'm fine!" England snapped, not wanting America to think he couldn't do something as simple as go down to the kitchen. He pulled his top half vertical. It was strange, like bending backwards, but it didn't hurt. "I can bloody well get around my own-" He had tried to move forward and fell flat on his face again.

This time America had the foolishness to laugh. England lifted his head and glared at him.

"Come on," America said between giggles, "Let me help."

He easily lifted him in what would be bridal-style if not for the way his tail dragged on the ground. England doubted it would be a good idea to walk like that, so, after several failed attempts, he wrapped his tail around America's belly. It made him feel safer too, like he wasn't going to fall. He threw his arms around America's neck for good measure. Oh, he was so warm too. Nice and warm, especially at the back of his neck and around his inner thigh where the end of England's tail had moved without his notice.

"You're colder than usual." America said, "But not quite room-temperature. Are you like half cold-blooded now?"

"I haven't the slightest. Can I just stay here?"

"I don't know how comfy that'll be, but it should be fine for now."

England hummed contentedly and placed his head on America's shoulder.

"What do you want for breakfast?" America asked, opening the fridge.

"I don't really know." England said, "I'm not very hungry."

America laughed, "You? Not want breakfast? Man, this snake thing is really hitting you hard."

England scowled but went around to America's back so that he could work.

America stroked England's hair and pulled bacon, eggs, and hash browns. He bustled around the kitchen, grabbing pans and cooking spray. England was content to watch him work, to feel those solid muscles moving beneath him. However, when America began to make his eggs, England was suddenly struck by how much he wanted one. But cooking it sounded so disgusting. While America's back was turned, he quickly reached out his hand, took a raw egg from the carton and swallowed it whole.

He blushed. Why had he done that? It was so disgusting! Not only raw, but still in the shell, it was so-

When America turned to throw his shells away England took another without thinking. Why were they so good like that?

America looked at the carton and blinked. "Did you just-"

"Yes," England said dejectedly.

"That's so cute!" America said, petting him again, "Should I get you some mice or something? I've had other snakes and they've liked those too!"

England blushed and buried his face in America's neck. "That- that won't be necessary."

America laughed and continued to cook his breakfast. He hummed off-key to himself, but England found it somehow relaxing. He held America a bit tighter. He felt overwhelmingly lucky to have him.

It wasn't too comfortable to be squished between America and a chair, but it wasn't too bad. It was worth it to keep holding him. He did reach out once or twice to snag a piece of bacon or a bit of egg, but he mostly just sat there.

He hissed affectionately and nuzzled America's neck.

"He-hey England. That's kind of distracting."

England looked and saw that there was next to nothing left on America's plate. He smirked and continued, beginning to run his hands down America's upper arms. America groaned softly and his fork and knife dropped with a clatter. England took that as his cue to slither around to the front to give him a kiss on the lips. America opened his mouth and sent his tongue to probe England's, but he quickly pulled out and pushed him away.

"What's wrong?"

"You have fangs. Why do you have fangs?"

England raised an eyebrow, "Because I'm half-snake?"

"Are you poisonous? I don't wanna die because my boyfriend bit me!"

England rolled his eyes, "You'd just come back to life anyway."

"But still."

"Alright. How about I kiss you then?"

He eased America further back into his chair and began to slowly trace the inside of America's mouth with his tongue. He had America moaning again quickly.

"Should I take us back upstairs?" America asked.

England smiled, "Please do that."

He held him close and they kissed as he walked. He stumbled going up the stairs once or twice, but he never fell. Once they managed to get to the bedroom, England detached himself from America and lay on his back.

"So, erm," England looked down at himself, "How do we do this?"

"Well, you should have an opening right down here." He pressed his fingers against a specific part of England's tail that made him squirm.

"W-what is that?" He asked.

"Your vent." America replied, rubbing it gently, "it's basically where you keep your everything."

"What?" England asked dreamily. He was as taken in by pleasure as he would have been if America was rubbing his inner thighs. All of a sudden, he felt something come out. He looked down to see two spiked protrusions sticking out between his scales.

"What the hell are those?" He demanded.

"Shit," America said, "I didn't think they'd have spikes all over them!"

"What is going on?" England asked again.

"Those are your dicks. Male snakes have two. I just didn't think that they'd be all-"

"Yeah," England said. "You don't have to touch them. I wouldn't."

America let out a sigh of relief, "Thank God."

Those spiked _things_ were already starting to collapse and fold back in.

"Well, I suppose this didn't turn out that well," England said, "I'm going to have to tell Japan about the spikes. I feel like I ought to give you some compensation for this." He gently put his hands on America's waistband.

"Nah. Sorry, but the spiked penises killed it for me. Maybe later."

"I'm sorry, America," England said.

"Nah, it's fine." He stood and held out his hand to England, "Wanna go watch some TV or something?"

England smiled. "That would be nice." He pulled himself back onto America and wrapped his tail around his middle, "I like holding you like this."

"It's plenty nice for me too." America said, gently petting his scales. "Come on, big guy, let's go downstairs."

England settled back down on his shoulders, glad that he could at least give America his company.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which America is part cat

"Hey! Hey, England! Check me out! I'm fucking adorable!"

America shook his lover's shoulder several times. Of all the changes that had happened since they'd started with the jar, this was by far his favorite by far.

"M-Meri?" England said sleepily, "What is it?" He sat up and rubbed one of his eyes.

"Look! I'm a kitty!" He headbutted England gently, like he'd seen cats do to each other.

"E-ears?" England asked, gently rubbing the new golden appendages on top of America's head.

"Yep! I have a tail too!" He brought it around to show him. England reached out with a hand and began petting it disbelievingly.

"Well this is- interesting."

"Coming from the guy who was half-snake a week ago." America scoffed, "But look at me!" He flipped over onto his back. "Belly rubs?"

"Waking me up because you just wanted attention? You are a bloody cat." However, he still reached down and rubbed America's stomach. America closed his eyes and was about to start purring when England laughed.

"Oh? Did you get fur too? Because you feel awfully fluffy here."

"Shut up!" America sat up and swatted his hand away.

"Relax, dear," England said, laughing and guiding him back down, "It's all in good fun." He kissed him on the lips, "Now, shall I show you how much I adore you?" He teased at America's pajama pants.

"Really? Already?"

"You woke me up in the middle of a rather nice dream," England pulled the blanket away to show America how hard he was, "What did you expect to happen?"

"Horny bastard." America said, blushing.

"You love it." England pulled away to drag his own pajama pants down, showing America just what he was hiding.

America started drooling. God, he was so well trained. Maybe it would have been more appropriate if he'd been turned into a dog. He got onto his hands and knees and set his head in England's lap. He ignored his cock for a moment to lick and bite at his thighs, making him sigh.

"Your tongue is rough."

"Do you want me to stop?" America asked, lifting his head.

"No, just be careful once it's on me proper."

"Will do," America said, giving him a mock salute before going back to teasing at his thighs.

England laughed, put a hand in America's hair and gently began massaging his scalp.

"That's good," America said, "It's really good."

"Bloody cat," England said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

America smiled to himself and began kissing up and down the length of England's cock. He closed his eyes and mapped it with his lips for the thousandth time. God, it was so gorgeous. America couldn't wait until it was all slicked up and inside of him. England shivered when America began to peel back his foreskin.

"We should do docking again soon," America said.

"Now?"

"Nah," He gave him a wicked grin, "I have other plans for this round."

"Such as?"

America leaned back down and kissed the head of England's erection before beginning to slowly take it into his mouth. However, before he even got the first inch, England cried out in pain.

"Stop! America! Stop! Take it out!"

America listened to him, opening his mouth wide and pulling back. "What's wrong?"

"It's that tongue. I'm sorry, love, but not today."

"That's fine," America replied, "I wouldn't want sandpaper rubbing my dick either. Do you still want to-"

"Oh heavens, yes."

America stayed on his hands and knees but turned around, shaking his behind and flicking his tail, "I'm ready whenever you are, big boy."

England rolled his eyes, "You are an insufferable idiot."

"You love it."

England smiled and tugged down America's pants. "You have fur here too." He said, touching the small of America's back. "It's just above your tail."

America shuddered. Suddenly it was hot. Far too hot. He pulled off his shirt and threw it carelessly to the side. At that same moment, England reached between his legs and began massaging his inner thighs. America yowled and arched his back.

"Maybe you're in heat," England said teasingly as he pulled away to grab the lube, "You sure sound like it. Do you have any condoms around, love? We don't want little kittens running around in a few months."

"You'd like it, sicko," America muttered.

"No, caring for a whole litter of cats would be ridiculous."

"It would, but remember two times ago when I looked pregnant? It got you so- _oh!"_

America's thought was cut short by England pressing the first finger inside. He whined. It had been a while since he'd bottomed. The past few weeks he'd either topped or they'd done non-penetrative sex. With England curling his finger to brush teasingly against his prostate, America couldn't imagine why.

"Do you like that, love?" England asked softly, pulling his finger away.

Oh yeah, that was right, because England was kind of an asshole. "No," America said, gritting his teeth, "Give me more. You know I can take it."

"I do," England said, coming back with two fingers, "I just like to hear you ask."

America rolled his eyes.

"I like the reminder that you want this, that you want me."

America felt himself go red all the way up to his ears. Now that just wasn't _fair._ America wanted a chance to be grumpy with England for once, dammit. Why did his boyfriend have to be so cute all the time?

"I always want you, babe," America said, reaching back to take his free hand. England smiled warmly. Jeez, couldn't he wait until afterwards to be that adorable? Fluffy feelings and boners made for a weird mix in America's mind.

"Then get ready," England said. He leaned over America and began stretching, "I want you so bad, Meri."

America shuddered, glad to be pushed back firmly into sex mode. He loved England's fingers so much. They weren't very thick, but they were long and so very dexterous. It helped that England was clearly enjoying it too. America couldn't see or feel his arousal from where he was, but the slight dampness of the hand that rested on his hip and the occasional hitch in England's breath was enough to let him know exactly how turned on he was.

America licked his lips. "Come on," he said, slightly surprised at how breathless his own voice sounded, "Give me one more."

"Are you sure? I haven't been at two for very-"

"I know. Come on!"

England sighed, "You've always been such a stubborn little brat, you know that?" However, he still added his third and final finger.

America bit his lip. Yeah, it was a bit of a stretch, but he'd had worse. After all, there had been all those nights they'd stumbled home or onto the nearest flat surfaces drunk or (back in the sixties) high out of their minds and England had barely stuffed two fingers in him before America took his dick. He'd enjoyed it then (not so much the day after, though) and he would enjoy it now! He just wanted some simple lovin' right then. There would be time for the deep romance and gentle touches later, when he was right about to come or they were both basking in their afterglows so much that they couldn't think of anything else but spending eons together in bed.

"I'm going to start working my fingers now, alright?" England asked.

America just grunted a positive and lowered his head to rest on his forearms. He wanted England's dick so bad, but he knew that if he tried to take it now he might tear, and even if he didn't it would put sex out of the question for the rest of the day and what kind of man would he be if he passed up the chance to be a literal sex kitten?

Of course, any coherent thoughts were pushed from his mind when England actually began moving his fingers. He had two of his fingers stretching America's walls, leaving the third to tantalizingly ghost over America's prostate. America growled and bucked back. Seriously, England, he was able to take- Oh. _Oh!_ Right then England went from teasing his spot to full on assaulting it, all three fingers alternating kneading it until America felt like he was about to melt. It was so good but not enough. Never enough. He spread himself even wider and keened.

"I know love, just wait for me for a moment." He kissed America's shoulder.

God, why did he have to be such a sweet, protective top? More importantly, why was his mothering so arousing? "I want you. I need you. More. Your cock-"

"-Is right here." He pulled his fingers away and America almost cried from the loss, but then he felt the tip of England's erection at his entrance. England used his left hand to trace patterns on America's hip while the right held his cock steady.

He began to ease in slowly. America hadn't been prepared as much as usual, so it almost hurt on the way in but it burned in the best way. He swallowed. It felt fantastic to have England back where he belonged. It was so good just to have him there, warm and solid and alive inside of him that America didn't even push for him to start moving right away. It was enough to wait there, to be invaded willingly like that. His legs were shaking but he knew that no force in the universe could force them to give out with England inside of him.

"Ssh," England said, leaning down to kiss his cheeks, "It's alright." It was when he began to lick at the tear trails that America realized that he had shed some.

"I'm fine." America said, "It's just intense."

"That's good. You're good too. You're nice and tight. You just- you tickle."

"What?"

"Your fur. It tickles a bit. Does your tail hurt?"

America shook his head, "Should it?"

"I don't know. I never researched cat sex."

"Well I did," He giggled, "And you should be glad it turned out this way. Male cats have spiked penises too."

England groaned, "Are we the only species on earth that doesn't have painful genitalia?"

"Maybe, but if we are, thank God we just got the little mushroom heads."

"…That might be the least arousing way to describe a penis I've ever heard. I've half a mind to just start fucking you to shut you up."

"Oh yes please!"

England muttered something that was probably disparaging, but who cared when he began rolling his hips like that? America arched his back, wanting to get more. England had a nice cock as it was, but it felt so much bigger, so much better when they didn't stretch America as much. England adjusted his hands, getting as firm of a grip on America's hips as was possible with his sweaty hands. America closed his fists around the sheets, knowing what was coming.

With only a little circle drawn on America's hipbone for warning, England sped up his pace, making every thrust deep and hard and so _good._ America moaned wantonly and spread his legs even wider.

"You love this, don't you, my little whore?" Oh, there came the dirty talk. America almost came right there on the spot. Instead he just let out a high-pitched whine, "You need daddy's cock, don't you, love? That's all you ever want, you little slag."

"Yeah," America said, "Yeah, more. Give me more." He wasn't sure if he meant the insults or the fucking, but England delivered both.

"Jesus Christ, I barely fucking prepared you and look how loose you are. I bet I could fit two other cocks here with mine."

Oh, that would be so much… America decided he ought to repay the favor while he still had some control over his tongue, "No. Not other cocks. Just yours, only yours. Want you to fill me with toys and come all over me. Just keep coming and coming, marking me as your personal slut."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? To just have one master, to be used and abused over and over again by me."

"Yeah," America lowered his head again and just focused on breathing. With all those ideas of terrible, sexy things swimming around in his head it was a miracle he wasn't shaking trying to hold back his orgasm.

England leaned back down over him and began to bite at his shoulders.

" _Mine,"_ America practically heard him think, _"You're my America. Mine. No one else can have you."_

He liked that. Oh, God, did he like that. He couldn't help it, he started purring.

After a few moments, England stopped moving and pulled his mouth away. It was then that America realized what he was doing and blushed.

"Are you-?"

"Shut up and keep going, scale-butt."

"I understand why you kept calling me cute last time," England said, starting again, "You're bloody adorable. How about after this we make you my pet, eh? Make you wear a collar and crawl around naked."

"Only you could make that hot."

"I try."

And with that he went back to his previous mission of trying to gnaw America's left arm off. Eventually, though, his attacks became less like bites and more like sloppy kisses as his breaths grew more ragged.

"I love you," he whispered hotly over America's skin, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," America choked out.

England reached around and began to stroke America's cock. He wasn't quite in time to his increasingly less-rhythmic thrusts, but America couldn't care less. It didn't take long before he was spilling all over the bed anyway. After that he allowed himself to collapse, even though England wasn't quite finished yet. He closed his eyes and hummed contentedly. He loved it when the bottom finished first, whether it was him or England. It was so nice to have somebody behind him, giving him even more when he almost couldn't take it and it was just as nice to thrust into a loose, willing body. After England stiffened and came with a cry the two of them rolled onto their sides. England wasn't inside of him anymore, but he still pressed against him, nose buried right between America's new ears and arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Happy impulse sex is the best sex," America said with a sigh, snuggling down into the pillow.

"It is one of the better kinds, yes." England mumbled, his voice still thick with bliss.

"Hey, did you mean it about making me your pet for the rest of the day?"

"That depends, would you like it?"

"Maybe," America said, putting his hands over England's. "Can I walk and wear clothes?"

"Of course." England said with a laugh, "You know that anything I say during sex is up for negotiation."

"Except for that you love me, right?"

"Exactly." He gave America a quick kiss on the back of his neck. "Now, if you don't mind, now that I've given my kitty his attention I'd like to get some more sleep."

"What if I start meowing because I'm hungry?"

"I'll boot you out of bed and tell you to get your own damn breakfast."

America laughed and pulled the blanket back over them. He'd begun to miss days like this, when nothing mattered but being together and enjoying each other's company. He'd have to make sure that they came around more often.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which England turns into a teenager and America is uncomfortable with that

The world was much bigger when England woke. He blinked until the bedroom came into focus so that his eyes could confirm what he was feeling. It was just as he expected: his clothes were loose and the pillow was larger than it was the night before. He sat and stretched, letting out a yawn. Well, he was awake, so why not go and make himself a pot of tea?

It was only when he sat in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to heat up that it finally clicked in his head that the situation was abnormal and possibly problematic. He raced to the bathroom and looked at his reflection. Sure enough, his face had changed back to when he was a teenager. God, he hadn't looked so young since the fourteenth century.

"Christ," he muttered to himself, "were my cheeks really this round back then?" His voice was higher too, he noted. It wasn't a child's voice anymore, but it wasn't quite at his normal low tenor.

He turned back to the mirror and pinched one of his cheeks for good measure, lost in the novelty. There was hair there, but instead of the normal coarse stubble he had gotten used to in the morning it was soft and pale, completely unnoticeable except for when he rubbed it the wrong way and he felt it move. He looked at his arms and found that the hair had gotten thinner overnight there too. His shoulders were narrower, his Adam's apple was almost nonexistent, and he was a good half-foot shorter. He'd never seen his younger self so clearly: mirrors were far better then than they were seven hundred years prior. For several minutes he was lost to his memories, thinking of all that had been going on the last time his body looked like that.

"Hey baby!" America calls, "I'm up now. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Some eggs over easy would be nice!" He called back before returning to prodding at his youthful face some more.

At the sound of England's voice, America's footfalls ceased. Then he began rushing towards England. "My god! What happened to you?"

"I'm younger I think." England said, continuing to inspect himself, "Was this kink one of yours?"

"Oh. The jar. Right." He blushed bright red, "Well, I... kinda, sorta... liked you since I was a colony. I-I'd been hoping we could act it out."

"Nothing to be ashamed about there," England said, going up on his tip-toes to give America his good morning kiss (Christ, how much shorter _had_ he been as a teenager?)

However, America turned his head so that it landed on his cheek instead of his lips, "Eggs! Right! Don't want you eating them raw and whole again." He let out a nervous laugh and bolted from the bathroom.

"What has gotten into him?" England asked himself.

However, he didn't think on it too long. He was a growing boy again, after all, and his stomach was complaining about its lack of food. So, England wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching America work, bent over the stove and so beautiful. Normally England would be staring at his fantastic behind, but he'd already decided that that wouldn't be what today was about. No, England was smaller and looked far less experienced. He wanted to relish it.

Oh, After breakfast he would have him. He'd look up at America, really up now, with his big green eyes and give pouting a try. He'd get America to lead him back to the bedroom and gently lay him down in the sheets. Then he'd make love to him, slow and sweet and perfect like America almost always did when he topped. And it would be so nice to be topped like this. Although twenty-three wasn't too old, he bet he'd have a much shorter refractory period when he was fourteen. He bet that America could make him come over and over again until they were both too tired to so much as lift a finger.

America turned around holding the two plates. He laughed, "Must smell pretty good, huh? You're already drooling."

England shook his head, "Yes, that's it."

He tried not to stare at America while they were eating. America was babbling on and on about the dream he had last night, but England could barely focus enough on getting bits of his egg into his mouth. He was too busy thinking dirty, pornographic, horrible things. It would be so wrong, but that would make it all the better.

"Hey, England! Earth to England!"

England blinked and looked at America, blushing, "Yes? What is it?"

"I asked if you wanted to go to the zoo today."

"The zoo?" England asked. That sounded like a spectacular waste of teenage stamina.

"Yeah! It'll be fun. They have a new baby koala! Oz wanted me to send a picture with it to prove that my animal skills work even on little furry balls of death!"

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" England sighed.

"I have to work tomorrow." America said, pouting.

England clenched his jaw. Yes, he certainly had to learn the secret of the pout.

"Alright. But I'd like you to help me with something first."

"Sure!" America said, beaming, "whatever you want."

"It's in the bedroom. Come with me."

"Man, look at these dishes! I'd better start cleaning them before the egg dries and it becomes a bitch to get off! Why don't you go take a shower and get dressed and I'll help you later?"

England huffed. It wasn't like America to refuse sex like that. Maybe he was really serious about posing for pictures with a marsupial.

The rest of the day, America stayed strangely aloof. He wouldn't even let England hold his hand, much less kiss him. The most he got was an occasional, brief hug. He was referring to England as his younger brother, not his boyfriend or even his friend. He sort of understood. After all, America was legally an adult and he wasn't. He didn't want any questions either.

England wanted to go home so that he could hold America like his lover again, but even after taking the picture with the koala, they milled around the zoo, America being completely enamored with everything and anything they came across while England was completely enamored with America. Even though England wanted America's touch like he wanted air, it was nice to see him being so unabashedly cute.

However, eventually the zoo had to close. England finally thought he might finally be about to get sex, but then America decided that they _had_ to go see the new batman movie. It wasn't too bad, honestly, although he would have preferred more action and less of Christian Bale's dreadful acting. When he expressed this opinion to America, he just threw his head back and laughed, "You never got unspoiled from Shakespeare, did you?" England huffed and turned away.

They stopped by a Chinese restaurant and got takeaway for supper. England allowed himself to be distracted by chatting and banter all the way back to America's house and through their miniature picnic on the living room floor. Of course, it was easier to stay distracted while making snarky comments about the ridiculous reality show playing in the background.

"Why do all of these programs have to have a right bastard of a British judge?" He asked, frowning.

"Well, you do like to complain about things, like you just demonstrated," America said with a smile before taking a bite of his egg roll.

England let out a harsh laugh, "No, I don't think it's that. That perversion of yours for me shouting at you has sunk into your entire population, hasn't it?"

America swallowed and placed the egg roll on top of what was left of his sweet and sour chicken. "Maybe. I do like it a lot." He gave England one of his obscene eyebrow wiggles, but instead of leaning forward to kiss him or swiping him off his feet like America usually did, he took up his fork and started eating again.

Alright, he was clearly just being facetious. "Let's go to bed." England said, closing the lid on what was left of his chow mei fun.

"What, did widdle Engwand miss his bedtime? Even _I'm_ not tired."

"No." England too his hand, "Let's go to _bed."_

America blushed cherry red, "Oh, yeah, right. We can, um, do that."

England rolled his eyes. Why America had decided to play the awkward virgin act that night was beyond him. They put the leftovers in the fridge and then made their way to America's room. Once they reached the threshold, England couldn't stand it anymore. He threw his arms around America's shoulders and kissed him. America placed his hands on England's hips, god they were so _big_ on him now, and kissed back with just a hint of shyness. Maybe America was worried about overwhelming him.

"Don't worry," England said pulling away, "I'm smaller now, but I'm still _me._ I know you. We've done this a thousand times."

"Right," America said, leaning down to kiss him again.

America was squirming a bit. Poor boy must have been as aroused as England was. Suddenly it all made sense. That must have been why he put it off: he wanted to make it even sweeter when they finally came together. England sighed into his mouth and buried his fingers in his hair. For such an idiot, sometimes his America was an absolute genius. America was sweating. He could feel it on the back of his neck. Wow, to be like that already England must have really been turning him on.

"I can't help it anymore. I need you now." He looked up at America through half-lidded eyes. That meant he could barely make out his face, but that was alright. England had memorized every inch of him long ago. He knew that look of need, that way his pupils would blow wide with arousal and make his cerulean eyes even darker and deeper than they normally were.

He walked backwards towards the bed until he fell over, pulling America down on top of him. They were kissing again as America gently moved him so that his head was in the pillows. He undid America's belt and fly while America fumbled with his. The heat was radiating off of his skin. England couldn't wait to be pressed under that, to feel every inch of America, especially the six and a half inches just beneath his belt. England reached up to cup his groin. He was still mostly soft. Odd, with how aroused he seemed to be before he should have had a full-blown erection by that point. Well, it didn't matter. It happened to everyone from time to time. He would just give it a few minutes. Besides, that meant more time to play with his lover before getting to the main act.

As soon as England's jeans were undone, America hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled them all the way down. Once he was free, England wrapped his legs around America. God, he felt so much bigger like that! His cock twitched at the very thought of being completely covered and filled to bursting all at once. He pushed America's trousers as low as he could with his feet, not wanting to relinquish his hold on America's neck.

"Get the lube," He whispered into America's ear, "I need you inside of me."

"You're being awfully bossy today," America said nervously as he rummaged through the drawer of the bedside table.

"And you're being awfully bashful. Come on, love."

He closed his eyes and spread his legs, eagerly awaiting America. He heard the soft click of the cap opening and the tell-tale squirt of a mostly empty bottle. They'd have to buy a new one soon. He waited and waited, but nothing happened.

"Please, Meri," He groaned, "I don't care how cold it is, I need it."

"…I can't." England opened his eyes just in time to see America roll away. He grabbed a pillow and curled around it, "I just can't. I can't rape you." He started shaking.

God, what had gotten into that head of his? "Ssh, it's alright. I'm fine. I want this America."

"You can't. You can't want it. You're too young. I can't. I just-"

He started sobbing.

"Oh, Christ," England wrapped his arms around America's frame, careful to keep his still-prominent erection away to not distress him further, "It's fine. It's just me. It's England. It's sixteen-hundred-year-old England. You're fine."

"No, I'm not fine. I can't even- I won't even- I've been working up my courage all day, but I still can't-"

England's throat went dry. "Oh no. Shite, America, I thought you liked it. I thought you were pretending for some reason. I never dreamed- I wish you would have said something."

America looked back over his shoulder at him, "You know how I am with talking. I tried to show you. That's why I wouldn't kiss you and why I took you out to all of those places. When you kept pushing, I thought- I thought you just really wanted this."

"Fuck," He shook his head, "I should have noticed, should have seen- Dammit, America, I've practically been molesting you all day."

"We're dating England," America said, rolling back over to face him, "Just because I can't take one of the kinks-"

England placed a finger to America's lips to silence him. "No, America. You didn't want it, but I forced you to."

"You can't force me to-"

"Yes, but I pressured you. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms around America and kissed his forehead. "You're a good man, America. Don't forget that."

He pulled away and gathered his clothes. "I'm going to go shower and I'll sleep in the spare room. I'll make you breakfast tomorrow. Just- just try to feel better."

* * *

He awoke in the middle of the night to find his body back to normal. He went back to America's room. He was thrashing in his sleep and whining like he was in pain. England placed a hand on his shoulder and at first America stiffened.

"It's alright, love. It's me, normal me this time." At the sound of his voice, America relaxed. England eased his way into bed next to him and wrapped his arms around America's torso. He swore he would make it up to him. Somehow.


	7. Chapter 7

America tried to get out of bed the next day, really he did. He just somehow couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt dirty, unworthy. England was a good boyfriend. He called America's boss, said he really didn't feel well. England was a good boyfriend, really he was.

So why did America feel so-

"I brought you breakfast." England said, peeking into America's room, "I know when I feel unwell I always like a good fry up." He opened the door further and brought a whole tray in.

It had everything: coffee, milk, eggs, bacon, several different sausages, toast, he'd even made hash browns. However, America's throat felt tight. He didn't want to swallow water, much less the thick, greasy breakfast England had made him.

Still, he'd put all that work in. He was good, he cared about America. He was-

America felt obliged to eat. His throat and stomach fought him every bite, but he made his way through eventually. He owed England that much for trying to take care of him even though he was too wimpy to follow simple instructions.

After his plate was clean, England came over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Now just rest, dear. Feel better."

America nodded and flopped back over. He could at least try to meet that first command, even though the second seemed far off.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach as England left the room. God, he felt sick. Well, sicker. He shuddered and wished England hadn't made him eat the whole thing. Normally he loved the stuff, but now it felt unwelcome. He was a bit overstuffed, and even though he normally liked the little bit of stretch after a good meal, now it just felt like his skin was too tight. But England would be expecting that sort of disappointment. As it was, the night before he couldn't even-

He grabbed his hair and curled more tightly into himself. Why was he beating himself up in the first place? England was fine with it, and even if he hadn't been America could just laugh it off like he always did. It was just… he wanted this to be different. That was why he was putting up with the jar crap. He knew England was rigging it. Why else was he always so excited? He picked the ones that turned him on the most. It wasn't complicated and America was not as stupid as most people took him for. To make it worse, England had never even given him a good one to top with. He was used to more switching than he was getting. Even when they weren't using the jar, England would end up on top most nights now.

He hated it. He had always been a normal, red-blooded American man. He loved sex. Now he was starting to get tired of it. He had liked bottoming, but doing it so often… it was getting boring, almost like it was an obligation now.

Of course, now everything felt like an obligation to England. He was being a good boyfriend. And America, America just didn't want to lose him.

America let himself wallow in his misery for most of the day, gave him time to sulk, time to think, time to worry that England would _never_ come back in. However, when the sky started to tinge orange and gold there was a soft knock on the door.

"America?" England asked softly, "Can I come in? I brought you McDonalds."

America immediately turned to look. England not only came back, but he brought him his favorite food. Thank god he was getting another chance.

"Yeah," America said, "of course you can."

England opened the door with a sheepish smile on his face. He padded into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hello, love," He said softly, petting America's hair with one hand as the other held out the greasy paper bag.

Gingerly, America reached out and took the food. He reached in and pulled out the first thing his fingers touched, which turned out to be a Big Mac. America was incredibly hungry, but he forced himself to eat slowly, checking and double checking his every movement with England. England, however, had pulled out a sandwich of his own and was eating while determinedly not looking at America.

Eventually, when they were both about half done with their burgers, England finally spoke up. "D'you want to talk about it?" He asked softly.

America resisted the urge to defensively deny it, but there was no way that England would buy that everything was fine when he'd barely moved an inch all day.

"I'm sorry." America finally said.

England's brows shot up into his messy bangs, "What for?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it last night."

"No," England said sternly, turning to face him, "Don't apologize for that. Don't _ever_ apologize for something like that. I should have known, I should have seen the signs or at least asked if you were alright with this. I pushed it too far, and now look at you." He gently cupped America's cheek. "I hurt you. Fairly badly by the looks of things."

"I hurt me." America said, batting England's hand away, "I was on top. I should have said no, should have told you to go to bed. I pushed myself, you didn't push me."

"You weren't responding but I pushed forth anyway. I basically coerced you."

"I should have said-"

"Yes," England said, putting his hands on his lap, "But even if we were both at fault, it was my responsibility. It felt the same as always for me. Yes, you were a little bigger and stronger and I liked that. But I- When you said it had been your fetish, I thought it was an act, that you were enjoying it. No, America, please don't cry!"

It was only when he said that that America felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. England made a move as if to wrap his arms around America but he stopped. Instead he put everything in the bag and put it to the side.

"May I?" He asked, spreading his arms.

America nodded and England wrapped himself around him. His hands stroked America's back and he pressed the sides of their heads together.

"I love you," America said, "I really do, and I just didn't wanna fuck this up."

"Hush, love, it's alright. I love you too and you didn't." He gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling away slightly so that his hands rested easily on America's shoulders, "Now, tell me where to go from here. Tell me what you want. I'd understand if you want to take some time off, if you'd like me to leave so that you can-"

"No!" America said. He reached up and took England's hands in his, "England, thank you so much for saying all this. I- It's good to know you're not mad at me for last night." England was about to open his mouth to object, but America kept talking, "but no matter what you think, I'll be fine. You hit a trigger without knowing it and then I psyched myself out. We talked about it when we started doing things other than vanilla, remember?" England gave a brief nod, although he still didn't look convinced, "Look, I know what's going through your head right now and listen: you didn't rape me. Let me say it again: _you didn't rape me._ I know you're worried about it, but I'll be okay."

Fuck, how did this turn to him comforting England? But there was something nice about it: England was just as torn up as America was, he was just as scared of this ending. And now, now they were just a couple of idiots who both overreacted because they forgot how to deal with a pulled trigger. They were together. They were fine.

"So," England said after a while, "Where do you want to go from here?"

"I think I wanna do some sex therapy. Not right now, right now would not be good, but soon. I need to top you, normal adult you, and you need to top me and then we need to go back to normal switchy sex for a while."

England nodded, smiling, "Of course. I suppose you've had enough of the jar, eh?"

"Actually," America said, smirking, "there are a couple of things that I wanted to try that we never got to. Just, maybe instead of doing it totally random, we can draw one and then talk about it. We'll figure out who to change, how we both want to act, and if it's a good idea."

"I'd like that." England said, squeezing America's hand, "I'd like that a lot."

**Epilogue**

It had been three months and everything was more or less back to normal. America groaned softly as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Why was work always such a bitch? His boss had come up with a massive pile of paperwork and it all had to be done by the end of the week, which _sucked_ because he wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and play temple run and text England like he usually did. Speaking of England, he should give him a call. It wasn't too late over there, and he was kind of a night owl anyway.

Smiling at the thought of hearing his lover's voice, he called out happily to Tony, "Honey! I'm home!"

"That's good, We've been waiting."

America blinked at the scene in front of him and blushed. He hadn't been expecting one England, so to see two covered in whipped cream, honey, and chocolate syrup… No wonder they'd been talking about using body doubles the next time they met up.

"Don't just stand there," One of them said, "It's starting to melt and I'm getting cold."

"Come on, enjoy us," The other added, grinning, "Next time it'll be your turn, after all."

"As if one of you wasn't demanding enough," America grinned and shut and locked the door behind him. "Now, who wants to be sucked and who wants to be fucked?"

Both Englands moaned and their entire bodies flushed. One of them spread his legs and the other opened his mouth wide, even though they wouldn't be getting to the main event until America got to lick every inch of skin on both of them. Yeah, it was gonna be a good night.


End file.
